


Drive

by LadyAJ_13



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bisexuality, Flirting, M has had enough, M/M, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAJ_13/pseuds/LadyAJ_13
Summary: Bond drags his eyes away from the figure Q cuts in those trousers, cardigan discarded over a chair and shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, to find M staring at him.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 26
Kudos: 249





	Drive

**Author's Note:**

> M has a line in this story which _could_ be taken as mildly homophobic, but it's not meant that way, he's just exasperated by Bond's Bondness.

Bond drags his eyes away from the figure Q cuts in those trousers, cardigan discarded over a chair and shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, to find M staring at him. 

He sighs. M has that face he likes to think means business, but in reality just advertises he’s about to royally piss Bond off. The head of a spy organisation should know better than to be so transparent.

“Really?” M asks, as Bond saunters over. No point dragging this out, after all. He raises an eyebrow in question. “Q,” M elaborates. “I thought the quartermaster, at least, would be safe from your wandering eye.”

He grins. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Far more detail than is required in your reports, when they eventually arrive, usually of the leggy brunette or buxom blonde variety.”

Bond turns; they’ve reached the door of the lab, but he leans against the wall rather than pushing the release button, and crosses his arms. He lets his gaze drag over Q once more, this time deliberate; he knows how to put on a show, and he’s always willing to go the extra mile to annoy M. Besides, it wasn’t just a wandering eye. He can very much imagine himself in the driving seat with Q, working out the right direction, how far he might be able to push it, whether he could slide his way onto his sofa, or better yet, into his bed. 

“He’s got a bit of leggy brunette about him.”

M laughs. “Right, just one problem.”

Bond stays silent. 

“Bond?”

He quirks his lips. 

“Bond, are you-”

“If you’re about to ask me if I’m bisexual, M, I could have you written up for harassment.”

“Alright, enough jokes-” He fixes him with a look, and M pales. “You’re not joking.”

“No,” he says slowly, decisively, with just a curl of lasciviousness calculated to put bigots’ backs up. “Problem?”

“What-” M rolls his eyes, exasperation dawning.  _ "Yes, _ Bond, you’ve just doubled my problems.” He sweeps a hand over his brow, then shakes his head slightly as if to clear it. He brandishes the file he holds as if he’d like nothing more than to slap Bond around the head with it, but instead flips it open to show a satellite image and a photocopy of a familiar blueprint - his last mission. The building suffered some injuries in the course of his time there. “Just - just no seducing the quartermaster. Right. Bond. When you’re in the field, we need you to-”

“Who said he’d be the one doing the seducing?”

They both jump, which is embarrassing - a computer boffin in trainers should not be able to sneak up on two seasoned field agents - but Bond can’t help a smirk as he catches Q’s eye. Unless he’s very much mistaken, it’s not just snarky humour that has the leggy brunette arguing back. No, he’d hazard a guess there’s  _ interest _ there too. Hidden, deniable, but there. His pulse thuds.

M splutters beside him, then takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to see it,” he says, visibly collecting himself before staring at the ceiling. “I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want it to affect your work. Otherwise…” he trails off, waves a hand dismissively, and is halfway down the corridor before they can react.

Q shuffles and glances down at his tablet. Bond straightens his cuffs and dons a well-practiced smile. 

“You got me out of a much dreaded meeting with the boss, and that must be the closest M’s ever come to blessing a workplace assignation. I owe you. Let me take you out for dinner tonight?” He could, he  _ should _ leave it there, but it seems his practised seduction technique turns into a kind of rambling when faced with a speccy, rumpled geek more usually the voice in his ear than the body in his sights. “A little bird revealed the way to your heart might be through a nice ride, and I’ve got a very sporty little Porsche we could take for a spin.”

Q smiles at him as he finally manages to bite his tongue; the same smile, he realises, he’s been using since they met. The one that says  _ I like you  _ and also  _ I could run rings around you. _ There’s something magnetically attractive about it, and he holds his breath waiting for an answer. 

Maybe that spark of interest isn’t strong enough to overcome the hundred solid reasons for avoiding entanglements with Bond.

“I thought I was meant to be seducing you?” Q asks finally. “Eight o’clock, no suit, I’ll pick you up.” 

That smile again, and Bond finds himself helpless, only able to return it. “You don’t know where I live.”

Q waves the tablet. “I know everything about you. And we’re doing this my way.”

He swallows, wondering what, exactly, the quartermaster’s way is. Q tilts his head, and Bond nods, hurriedly. Whatever it is, he has the feeling he’s going to enjoy it.

Just this once he’ll let someone else drive.


End file.
